Tower of Babel
by Cool Red Pants
Summary: A story building around the idea that the scouters are translators. Starts the moment Namek is about to blow up, and will lead up and in to the infamous three-year gap. Veggybull, because yes. AU-ish but I try to keep it as canon as possible.
1. Chapter 1

Krillin's initial reaction can be considered perfectly normal.

It begins with the blood flowing out of his face. He can feel his skin go ghastly pale as everything drains from his cheeks and lips, down the back of his bald head and into his neck. All of that blood and body heat coils together in a whirlwind of dread and anxiety in his chest. His heart had skipped a beat moments ago when his eyes fell on the reason for his body's fear fueled reaction. Now it has started beating twice as fast as if trying to escape the emotional torrent wailing inside of him. It could very well burst out of his chest at any moment and make a run for it.

To be fair, Krillin will not be far behind.

His breath had been stuck in his lungs for a moment. Now that he finally catches it again, it comes out in short, wheezing bursts that feel hot on his lips.

_Run for your life_ is slowly repeating itself through his fear addled mind. Not that he can outrun this man. Not that any of them can...

They weren't specific enough.

_Everyone killed by Frieza and his men._

They should have been more specific in who they had wanted revived.

And now they were going to pay the price.

Their adversary is glaring them down. His black eyes had done a quick sweep of the crowd, which consists mostly of green aliens not worth their foe's attention. Everyone has gone quiet, so much so Krillin can hear his heartbeat booming through his veins and the grass crunching beneath the warrior's boots as he slowly stalks closer. The ruffling of Piccolo's cloak thunders to his left when the strongest of the Namekians takes a stand next to the bald man. Gohan claims his spot in between his mentor and his friend, back straight and shoulders squared. The young boy doesn't even flinch when those way too dark eyes glide over to him. They regard the child silently, studying the boy's face and noticing all of the similarities with his father that endlessly piss the monster off.

When those same horrible eyes suddenly snap towards _him_, Krillin screams.

The Saiyan's shoulder's shrug once in amusement at the human's outburst.

'Don't even think abut it.' The deep tremor of Piccolo's voice has a slightly calming effect on Krillin. Trust the Namekian to be the center of tranquility even in the direct face of danger. 'You want your ass kicked? Then I'm your guy.'

Vegeta's eyes simply narrow. His stance relaxes, for some strange reason, and his arms cross in front of him.

When his lips part, Krillin feels a shudder crawl up his spine.

'You idiots.' the Saiyan hisses, and a collective gasp rips through the air. The reaction is quite over the top, Krillin realizes, not sure why being called idiots affects his friends this much. Vegeta can call them a whole lot of things worse than that. 'I don't understand you.'

Wait sorry what now?

'What is he saying?' When Bulma asks the question, Krillin blanks for a moment. He turns his head around and looks at her over his shoulder. He would not be looking this surprised if she had suddenly caught fire.

'This is going to be a problem.' Gohan mumbles, worry crossing his features.

Piccolo makes a low, annoyed sound in the back of his throat. 'Beating someone into a bloody pulp is a universal language Gohan.'

'What is going to be a problem?' Krillin takes his eyes off of the woman behind him and turns his gaze up towards Piccolo. The Namekian is still glaring at Vegeta. The bald warrior turns his questioning gaze towards the Saiyan Prince. 'I don't get it.'

'You can't be this stupid.' The alien speaks again. Vegeta's eyes roll over to the bald warrior. 'The scouter is a translator.'

'The what?'

'The _scouter_ on your _head_ you idiot!' The warrior snaps, and his outburst frightens the whole crowd. Several Namekians have begun backing off more, children are slowly being herded away or hidden behind by their larger kin. Vegeta relaxes slightly and huffs. 'Give it to me.' He uncurls an arm and holds out his hand, palm facing the sky. 'Give me the scouter.' He makes a grabbing gesture with his fingers, holding his arm at the same height as Krillin's head.

To be fair, the Earthling had forgotten abut the device attached to his face.

'What does he want?' Gohan turns big eyes towards Krillin.

'He wants the scouter.' It comes off relatively easy, which is good. For such a weird little machine it sure sits comfortably. He can barely feel the weight in his hand at all.

'Why?'

Before Krillin can answer, Vegeta clicks and whirrs. It is a short sound that carries and quickly changes pitch several times. He ends with something that resembles a K, but the sound is made in the back of his throat. The sound is a strange mixture between the rumbling of an animal and something mechanical, like the soft creaking of an old clock or maybe one of Bulma's quieter, oiled up machines.

It finally makes sense to Krillin.

To be fair this has been the worst week of his life, definitely. He is exhausted, to put it lightly, so it has taken him a moment or two to catch up.

As he hands the Saiyan the scouter, so that the monster can threaten them in a language they can understand, Vegeta makes another rumbling or purring kind of noise, something that starts with something that sounds like an N and ends with a plethora of pitches so quickly Krillin had trouble following them all.

The Saiyan is probably calling them a whole bunch of naughty things.

When Vegeta places the scouter on his ear, it responds with a short beeping noise. The alien sighs softly, his stance sightly askew as he reads whatever the screen displays.

'The scouter is a translator.' He repeats once again. His voice is layered with a gritty undertone, but perfectly understandable. 'Not only does it translate whatever is spoken for me, it also translates whatever the wearer says in any language. _You_ can now understand me...' His eyes roll over the small group of Earthlings. Then he motions with a hand towards the Nemekians around them. '..and they can too. So...'

The dark haired warrior straightens his posture once again, somehow managing to tower over everyone despite his shorter size. His stature takes on a commanding vibe, like a General who would speak to his soldiers.

Or a Prince talking down on peasants.

'...Someone wished me back from the dead.' His black gaze slides over the Namekians huddling together to his left. On of their oldest is hugging Dende to his side. The little green boy hides part of his face in the pants of his elder. 'I am aware that _that_ was a mistake.' Vegeta isn't looking at Dende in particular. In fact, he is not looking at individuals specifically.

'However, I am thankful nonetheless.' His eyes fall on the group of Earthlings in front of him. 'So I have decided not to slaughter you all.' His lips split into the nastiest smile Krillin has ever seen. The alien looks menacing and he's not even trying. 'You're welcome.'

'Well aren't you just generous?' Piccolo grunts, fangs bared. 'But what makes you think I'm not about to undo that little mishap?' Vegeta just gives the Namekian the most pleasant smile. The Saiyan's face is almost beaming, telling Piccolo he's being cute. Then the shorter warrior purrs and his lips pull back over his teeth. The open challenge is terrifying.

'Oh stop it you two.' Bulma pushes herself in between Gohan and Krillin. She shows a remarkable set of balls, shooting Piccolo a disapproving glare like that before stepping forward and _in between_ the Namekian and the Saiyan.

She must have gotten a sunstroke from those three suns back on Namek.

'I have no doubt that you have gotten crazy powerful.' Her eyes soften with a glint of admiration for the green man. Piccolo gives her a quick glance that Krillin can't quite place. 'But Vegeta _died_. So I can only imagine the boost he's gotten from that.' She emphasizes died on purpose, knowingly mocking the Saiyan.

Definitely a sunstroke.

She turns her back to Piccolo, facing the Prince, hands on her hips and eyes shining. The smile on her face is filled with playful mockery.

Whelp, no need to put her down. The Saiyan will take care of that if she keeps it up.

By the way Vegeta's eyes have gone predatory, it will be taken care of _real soon_.

But then Bulma does something very surprising.

Krillin adores her, he really does. She is a beautiful woman with a set of brains so bright he has trouble wrapping his head around her brilliance. She manages to pull at least one epic feat out of her ass every time he sees her, and one would think the surprises should be getting old by now.

They don't.

He hopes they never do.

'It has come to my understanding that you are, basically, a mercenary. Am I correct?'

Though Vegeta's eyes narrow slightly, he does seem intrigued by her question. 'Correct.'

'And if I am not mistaking, you worked for Frieza right? Up until the moment he killed you.' More emphasis is put on the Vegeta dying part, and Krillin can tell that despite that riling the Prince up, his full attention is on whatever hidden meaning Bulma is hinting at beneath her taunt.

'Death is indeed one way to get out of his contracts, yes.'

'So...' She crosses her arms and gives the Saiyan a toothy smile. '...looking for work?'

The alien snorts, amused. He doesn't answer her question with words right away, but if he had any less self control he would be doubled over, laughing. 'And what could you possibly have to offer me?'

And there is her opening.

'I will have you know that I am the daughter of one of the most influential men on this planet, and the heiress to Capsule Corporation, the current market leader in technology. To put it so that even your simple brain can process this, I am one of the richest people on the planet.'

Vegeta doesn't seem the least bit impressed. 'Do you have any idea how many have claimed such a thing in my presence? A lot of people seem to be drowning in wealth when faced with their extermination.' A moment of silence passes between them, until Vegeta's curiosity seems to win. 'What could you possibly have to offer?'

'What do you need?'

That is a surprising question. But clever too, if Krilling may say so. Because they could offer Vegeta a hundred billion Zeni, once the Saiyan shoves off planet there is probably little he can do with that. The alien regards Bulma silently, eyes narrowing once more and his grin disappearing. '_What_ do you have to offer?'

'_What_ do you need?' Bulma doesn't back down.

Vegeta carefully considers her words for a moment. His dark gaze is searching the woman's face. Bulma bravely keeps his stare, lips curled slightly upwards in encouragement.

'I want off this rock.' Simple as that. His eyes slide over to Gohan, linger for a long breath, and then fall back on Bulma.

'Best case scenario, in a few months we will be able to use the Namekian Dragonballs to wish Goku back to life and than back to Earth. Then we can wish for a ship for you and you can be on your merry way. Worst case scenario, we need to build you a ship ourselves.' Krillin is impressed, it seems that Bulma is three steps ahead already.

'My dad and I can build you one. It's going to take time. I can't tell you how long, that depends on how long it takes to collect materials and build parts. But I can get you off this rock, one way or the other.' From the look the Saiyan gives her, the idea isn't pleasing him all that much.

That is, until Bulma continues. 'In exchange, you will come work for me. We'll provide you with a place to stay, food, whatever you need, as much as you need.'

'And what exactly will you have me do?'

'Not sure yet. What are you good at, besides destroying planets and being a total asshole?'

Vegeta's lips pull into a thin line and he softly shakes his head. 'The mouth on you.' He rumbles under his breath, the threat lingering in his eyes. After a tense moment his face relaxes somewhat and his eyes light up in, dare Krillin think it, amusement? '_What_ do you need me to do?'

He threw that one back at her.

'A Jack-of-all-trades huh? I like that.' She nods, seemingly pleased with having just hired the man that came here and killed all her friends and has been a constant threat to their lives ever since. 'Here's what'll happen.' Putting on her Business Bulma face, the heiress of Capsule Corp. begins.

'_You_ will protect planet Earth.'

Krillin is unsure if she understands Vegeta's resume. But before he or anyone else can formulate a question her eyes shoot up and her gaze fills with worry. 'Goku is still out there fighting Frieza on a planet that is about to blow up. Though we can wish him back with the Namekian Dragonballs, knowing there's a chance he might die again sucks. He's always kinda been the guardian of this planet you know?' Her blue eyes fall on the Saiyan Prince and their stares lock. 'Ship ready to launch or not, wish ready or not, you will remain here, on Earth, as its _guardian_, until he gets back.'

Isn't getting the mass murdering maniac off their planet asap kind of a pressing matter?

'Frieza probably has lackeys scattered all over the place. The thought that some of them can come here and try to kill us...' She shakes her head to rid herself of that thought. 'I want you on this planet, being our main deterrent. In exchange, my family will provide you with living facilities, clothes, as much food as you want. And when you leave, maybe you can take some valuable materials from Earth. Materials that can provide you a boatload of space money, or whatever you people use up there.'

What is probably the most astonishing part of all this, it is that Vegeta seems to have the mind of a businessman as well. 'My services will not come cheap.'

'Oh please. I wipe my ass with thousand Zeni bills. You better be worth your weight in gold.' The Saiyan's eyebrows quirk. The expression might be unfamiliar to him but he seems to understand what it means.

'Now wait a minute.' Oh Kami above, Krillin hates being _that guy_. 'I don't like being a party pooper and all, but who here in their right mind thinks that Mister It's Over 9000 over here won't Galick Gun us all back to the Big Bang when he leaves?'

The grin creeping over the Saiyan's face is _not_ helping. Can the guy not look menacing for just a second please? However, Bulma seems to have thought that one through too.

'Because that wouldn't be very honorable, wouldn't it Vegeta?'

She's right, seeing as the grin on the alien's face grows a couple teeth.

Krillin fails to see how this is a good thing...


	2. Chapter 2

She can sense his power.

If she has to describe it, it feels like a living entity. And of course it is. It pulsates like a throbbing vein, like a dark, living mass that breathes. When she turns her head to the side, the thing remains, as if lurking in her peripheral vision. And if she turns her back to it, it sits there, fretful, hanging in a small spot on the back of her neck.

It is something she had never imagined being able to learn.

When she describes her findings to Krillin and Piccolo, they confirm having that same sensation. They feel it too.  
'He's lowering his power level.' Piccolo suddenly speaks up and that explains why it feels like it is pulsating. 'I don't think it is a skill that he has fully mastered yet, but he is figuring it out.'

'The same way he's learned to locate other powers from his last visit to Earth.' Krillin adds before taking a sip from his cup. 'He's a really quick learner. That's messed up.'

Another silence falls over the three as they remain seated at the small table in Bulma's backyard.

Everything has finally quieted down.

After hiring Vegeta as her new resident psychopath, Bulma had taken to calling her parents. They has been ecstatic to hear of her return. Through tears of joy she had explained what she needed. That they had come with a couple handfuls of Piccolo's who all needed a ride and a place to stay.

The Namekians had been moved to the western part of the compound, where a large arboretum would house the green aliens. It would be a tight fit, unfortunately, but that did not deter their new group of house guests in the slightest. Though many were tired from recent events, the discovery of a thing called a botanical garden had revitalized them.

At least the Namekians would be able to kind of, sort of, maybe be able to enjoy their temporary stay.

Thank Kami above that communicating with them was made easy because of Piccolo. The tall warrior had acted as a translator, diligently using what little patience he naturally has to escort his kin through every step.

What is even crazier, is that some have already begun picking up English words through telepathy.

Even more interesting was that the little friend Dende that Gohan had made, actually spoke it. Sure it was broken and backwards, but the fact that the little Namekian had picked it up in a matter of days was just tickling Bulma's scientific strings in all the right ways.

So thankfully, that issue had been solved rather swiftly.

Leaving only one other problem.

Bulma had been brutally honest towards her parents.

The Namekians? She would take a thousand of them over this one warrior.

She had begun by giving a vague description of the reluctant team-up between the alien and team Earth against an evil space tyrant. Not because she was withholding information, she simply hadn't been present most of the time. Bulma had felt a pang of guilt at being forced to burst the bubbling excitement in her mother's voice when she had added that Vegeta was also one of the Saiyans who had started this whole mess. And that he is a trained soldier, a specialized killer and probably has a fuse as short as a pencil.

It had been difficult to explain that they needed to treat him like delicate silverware, simply because chances were slim team Earth could take the Saiyan on at this point, especially after Vegeta had been killed. So trying to get some sort of handle on him by giving him a place to stay and everything he wanted, had been the best choice of action in her opinion.

Treat Vegeta like he can go off like an atom bomb, literally.

Although her excitement had been dented slightly, that undeniable threat hadn't deterred her ever optimistic mother. She had been the one who had stepped up with a set of cojones bigger than the Namekian Dragon Balls. She had openly welcomed the Saiyan, then told him, _to his face_, what a cute boy he was, and that she felt so sorry that she had been unable to properly prepare for his arrival. She had then hooked her arm around Vegeta's bicep, which had terrified _everyone_, and proceeded to drag him to the other side of the compound promising him he could clean up while she prepared him a meal.

'I can't believe Vegeta actually allowed her to drag him away like that.' Bulma finally breaks the silence.

'We should have asked your mom to come to Namek with us. She could charm Frieza into becoming her BFF if she wanted to.' Krillin is staring into the same direction she is looking at.

Despite this whole mess Bulma feels a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She inhales deeply and lets out a sigh, feeling the stress of the last month hum throughout her body. When she opens her eyes again, a tall Namekian is walking towards them. He is one of their eldest, with blue and white robes covering his slender body. He holds out a hand with an encouraging smile on his face. When Bulma takes it, it feels warm and strong and so loving and familiar. Like when she was little and would grab the hand of her dad. Before she knows it she's smiling again.

The Namekian casts his gaze into the direction of the compound, obviously sensing that same throbbing beast that they all feel.

'I cannot again stress how grateful we all are that you tumbled into our lives.' The alien begins. 'Even if this situation is not yet ideal, there could have been a far worse outcome. Also, for what it is worth, I would like to aid you in your peculiar situation, where I can, if you do not mind. I would have to come into physical contact with the Saiyan, to confirm what I am about to share, but I do believe his aura speaks for itself.'

'Please tell me Vegeta is secretly a really nice guy who is into stickers and ponies and rainbows and stuff.' Krillin's hope idea is crushed immediately of course.

Shame, Bulma's mother would have loved to search the internet up and down for anything My Little Pony.

'He is not a monster. That creature that came to out planet, with its hapless minions... that thing was a monster. This one,' he indicates his head into the direction of the compound. 'is a predator.'

'I cannot stress how that is in no way better, if I'm being really honest.' Krillin opts as his eyes finally break away from that throbbing thing and down to his hands.

Bulma understands him. She instantly gets what Krillin means. A predator, especially here on Earth, can be very dangerous to a human. Sure, a house cat is a hunter as well, and will take care of decease ridden rodents that ruin farmlands. But a bear is also a predator. And as cute and fluffy as they may be, a bear is many times stronger than a human, and they have been known to kill humans.

There are statistics of people getting killed on a yearly basis by all kinds of dangerous animals. Sharks, crocodiles, gorillas, even hippos and giraffes. And those aren't even predators.

But she also gets what the Namekian is trying to say. 'Look at it this way. Vegeta is like a lion.'

'On steroids.' Krillin intervenes, his comment bringing a small smile to her lips.

'We should be able to deal with that.'

'I don't think throwing Vegeta a slab of meat every now and then while he takes twenty naps a day can be considered handling him.'

'A lion is a predator. It hunts and kills to survive.' She smiles at the smaller man as she tries to get her point across. 'Dealing with a survivor is different from dealing with a sadist.'

'Oh no, no he is very corrupt.' The Namekian cuts in, wiping the grin from her face. 'We are all still in, how do you say it? Really deep shit?' He's obviously hanging onto Bulma for too long if he has begun picking up her swearing. 'Yes, totally fucked.'

_Royally._

A/N: Pun intended :p


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Please don't take this story too seriously. It's really just some light fun, to put a smile on the face of whoever reads this.**

'I left him some old clothes of your father.' Panchy looks over her shoulder, back down the hallway she just came through. 'I doubt they'll fit him properly though, he's, how do the kids say it? Very swole?'

Bulma snorts and gives her mother a genuine smile. 'Don't say _that_ to his face.'

'I'll finish up with dinner. Twenty minutes?'

'Sure.'

'Can you go check up on him? See if he needs help?'

Bulma really, seriously, totally doubts their new guest and doombringer will need help getting dressed, but sure. She watches the older woman leave before moving herself. The trek through the house is short. With every step Bulma's confidence slowly seeps out of her. If her mother can take the Saiyan head on, so can she. Or so the bluenette thought as she reaches the top of the stairs. The corridor is silent, the slowly setting sun is casting an ominous glow and somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls.

'Get over yourself Bulma. You are a grown woman.' She whispers and pats her face a few times with both hands, getting rid of the childish fear of the dark. She simply forces herself to keep walking. 'If he'd wanted it, we'd all be dead by now.'

That, for some bizarre reason, does not help calm her nerves. Even after staring at his door for a few seconds and taking a few deep breaths, her anxiety still keeps rising.

She remains there, just staring.

Vegeta is standing on the other side. She can feel him there, right in front of her, as if the door was never even there to separate the two of them. A thought is spared on how she managed to pick this skill up, and another on how happy she is with being able to sense him.

Not very happy, is her swift conclusion. If he decides he gets bored with them and wants to exterminate them all, at least she wants it to be over quick. She doesn't need to feel the Saiyan coming for them from a mile away. No thank you.

When she finally builds the courage to knock, the door violently swings open. So distracted with her own thoughts, it catches her off guard. She yells and jumps backwards, trips over her own feet and drops on the ground with a dull thud. She glares upwards with heat on her cheeks. 'What the Hell!?'

Her face suddenly burns brighter. She was about to say something more but the words can't form. Her mind simply...

...simply blanks.

Vegeta hasn't finished getting dressed. Although freshly showered, it looks like he is still only halfway ready with only pants barely clinging to his hips. He must still be in the process of trying on his new clothes.

His eyes narrow for a moment and a few clicks escape his lips. Of course Bulma doesn't know what he says, and she is left to stare at his retreating form when he turns away.

The door remains open in invitation.

She steps through, willing her burning cheeks to cool down. At least she can blame that on him for frightening her like that. Her blue eyes roam over Vegeta's back for a short moment, taking in his remarkable physique. The Saiyan isn't super tall. She notes that he is, in fact, slightly shorter than she is. Were it not for his hair that absolutely defies gravity. She wonders how it will be when it gets wet. Will it lower and fall around his head and face because it gets so heavy, or will it remain stubbornly aloft?

What would it look like?

She tries to picture it, what it would look like if the Saiyan's hair got wet. But then she pictures Vegeta himself wet, and with his current state of undress...

...they are not very wholesome thoughts...

Taking a deep breath, Bulma tears her eyes away from him and her thoughts from his wet, weightless hair. In an instant she spots the scouter on the desk.

Thankfully putting it on helps distract her exhausted, lonely brain from thoughts she should definitely not be thinking about this total stranger that can blow them all to pieces if his undies are in that kind of a twist.

After it bleeps and starts to display weird symbols she doesn't understand, Vegeta speaks up. 'Why are you here?' Straight to the point.

'Just checking if you need anything else. Dinner is almost ready.'

The Saiyan doesn't respond. He throws a look her way she can't place while his hands fumble with a dark red t-shirt.

Bulma is suddenly hit with the realization that this situation is utterly unfair.

Forget the fact that Vegeta can probably destroy Earth with one finger up his nose and one up his butt.

Ok yes, that is also really not cool.

But what really sucks...

What really bothers her even more than that...

...is that the Saiyan is absolutely stunning.

Even now that he is fighting to get into his shirt...

...or was, as it painfully rips when he tries to pull it down his chest. With a growl he tears it off, expertly ruining it completely. It is discarded on the slowly growing pile of torn clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed. Bulma eyes it for a moment before her blue eyes move back to the other man as he begins a new battle into a button down shirt.

'Wait, stop.' She almost flinches when his eyes shoot towards her. Braving all of that the bluenette steps forward, and, knowing full well who she's dealing with, grabs at the material around the Saiyan's neck.

And Vegeta still, somehow, for some crazy reason, allows it.

Why he hasn't thrown her through a wall yet surprises her.

'It's too small. See? This part here doesn't touch, which means the shirt wont fit.' She holds the fabric in her hands for a moment, with a finger's length of space between the button and its hole. How he has yet to rip this article is beyond her.

She absentmindedly notes that his skin is surprisingly warm to her fingers.

'Try this one.' Bulma reaches for another shirt. For a moment she wonders what Vegeta will think of the baby blue material. She is left to guess if he knows that the small, yellow print scattered all over it are in fact baby duckies.

She also wonders if wearing this will make him look less menacing.

Probably not.

She hates that she has to tear her eyes from him as he throws the offending fabric off his back and onto the pile of torn or otherwise unfit clothes. He either wont care for her wandering eyes taking in his powerful frame, or he will see it as being viewed like a piece of meat and take offense.

Bulma is unsure how having someone appreciate your looks can be considered upsetting, but she is unwilling to take the risk. Would he react harshly because his body is littered with scars? Wouldn't those be considered an honor amongst Saiyans?

She decides to save her questions for another time.

'Alright. That one actually fits better.' she notes out loud in encouragement. A smile began to form on her face, but somewhere along the way her brain malfunctions.

Time, at least for her, slows down. It's like watching a train-wreck. A terrible accident. It's like you see someone tripping and falling and you see all the details in their face as it contorts from surprise to realization and then twists in fear as they make the drop.

This isn't an accident though.

Heat starts to rise to her face.

She watches in what she can only describe as shock as Vegeta slowly buttons down his shirt. He's currently working on the third one from the top. His movements are slow, this experience clearly rarely done before by how focused he needs to be to be able to press the button through its designated hole. When the button finally slides in comfortably his hands lower to the next one. They press against his hard stomach to keep stable. Bulma can see the skin peeking out from beneath it, she can see several scars marring the creamy flesh.

Beneath his diligently working hands, maybe even beyond his focus, his jeans are slipping lower.

They drag over his milky hips. Over a rock hard tummy. If he were human, Bulma could have sworn Vegeta was flexing his muscles. But he's not. She knows he's not. It's just how he looks.

Just his hips.

His stomach.

The v-shape pointing to the middle of his belly, revealing more and more skin and leaving less to the imagination with each centimeter it slides. But then, all of a sudden...

...it stops.

Tomato colors her face.

The jeans, barely clinging to the Saiyan as is, somehow get caught and stop sliding down on _something_.

This...

This total jerk!

Has no business looking as good as he does!

The baby duckies on his shirt do not make him look less menacing, nor do they make him look less sexy.

Really, totally, absolutely not fair!

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.**


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